Baseball and Bonding
by purpleushi
Summary: Harvey convinces Jessica to let him take Mike to the Yankees game instead of Louis by telling her he needs to bond with his associate. As the night progresses he realizes he doesn't really mind Mike's company, and they actually do bond.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: After episode 6. In character, but semi-AU background. (AKA I made shit up about Harvey's past). I was going to wait until I finished it all, but I decided to post as a WIP. Updates soon!

Also, this story is actually gen for once. Well, as gen as the slashiest show on television can be. So there will be hints at the fact that they're clearly in love with each other, but nothing will be actively done about it. Just thought I'd let you know.

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><p>The first thing Harvey did when he arrived at the office was barge into Jessica's office. He didn't care that she was on the phone with a client, this was more important. She shot him a glare, and continued her conversation, then finally hung up and turned to face him.<p>

"To what do I owe this polite visit?"

Harvey crossed his arms. "I'm not going to the baseball game with Louis."

Jessica smiled, "Yes you are."

Harvey went into lawyer mode. "I have a deal to propose," he began. "You want me to bond? I'll bond. Just not with that sniveling creep. Let me take Mike to the game."

Jessica cocked her head, surprised. She considered for a moment. "Well, I actually am not opposed to that idea. So far you have done almost nothing for the kid. He needs a mentor, and he's got… you. So I guess that's alright with me if you take him instead."

Harvey nodded. "Good." he said simply, and turned to leave.

Jessica smirked at his back.

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><p>Harvey strode briskly to Mike's cubicle and dropped the ticket on his desk. "Sunday night. Be ready by six."<p>

Mike looked at the ticket somewhat suspiciously. "We're going to a baseball game?" he asked. "What's the catch?"

Harvey shrugged. "No catch. Jessica thinks we need to bond. So we are going to bond. And watch the Yankees cream the Orioles."

Mike stared up at him incredulously. "Alright then," he shook his head disbelieving. "Baseball it is."

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><p>When Sunday finally rolled around, Mike woke up at noon in a panic. He only had six hours to prepare. What was he supposed to wear? What would i <em>Harvey<em>/i be wearing? Was this a test? He was good at tests, the kind on paper at least, but what if he disappointed Harvey? If anyone could manage to fuck up a simple baseball game, it was Mike Ross. He realized he was hyperventilating and tried to calm himself down. It wasn't a date, for Christ's sake, it was a Yankees game.

Then Mike realized that he knew _nothing_ about baseball. He'd always been terrible at sports, so he'd never bothered to watch them on TV or anything. Baseball was the one with bases, right? And bats? And people on a field? _Crap_ he didn't know any of the players' names. How could he bond with Harvey if they couldn't even talk about the activity they were participating in?

He frantically googled the Yankees. Okay, so Derek Jeter was the pitcher… the name sounded vaguely familiar to Mike. And then there was Alex Rodriguez who played third base. Hadn't he been in some scandal with Madonna? Mike knew he was probably the world's worst New Yorker, but really, baseball just didn't do anything for him.

But he knew Harvey liked it, and so he spent the next three hours reading everything the MLB website had to say about the Yankees. He would be a fucking baseball trivia _machine_.

At five 'o'clock, he took a shower. Then he pulled on a clean pair of dark jeans and a plain navy tee-shirt, (he'd discovered that that was the Yankees color), and ran his fingers through his hair. Harvey would be there in ten minutes. He recited all the players again in batting order—and their averages, number of RBIs, stolen bases, jersey numbers, and fucking _birthdays-_anything that Harvey could possibly be interested in.

He now knew what a rundown was, and when to sacrifice bunt. He knew about tagging up, and what a full count meant. In theory, he could play the best damn game of baseball in the history of man. If only he could, you know, catch a ball.

His doorbell buzzed, jerking him out of his thoughts. He raced to open it and met face to face with Harvey. He took a step back, gaping. This was a Harvey he had never seen before. His perfectly gelled hair was smashed under a navy cap, and he was wearing a loose tee-shirt emblazoned with the Yankees logo and "2009 World Series Champs".

And he was wearing _shorts_.

Mike stared openmouthed until Harvey cleared his throat. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Mike nodded.

Harvey looked him up and down. "Where's your glove?"

"My what?"

"Your glove. We have third baseline seats, 6th row. Foul balls."

Mike frowned. Balls flew into the stands? That sounded dangerous!

"I, uh, don't have one."

Harvey rolled his eyes. "Figures. Come on, we're going to be late." And he walked away down the hall, leaving Mike to lock up behind him and then rush to catch up.

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><p>The car ride was quiet. They didn't have any cases to talk about, and Harvey wasn't the type for idle chat, so Mike just stared out the window as they whizzed through the city. Ray pulled into the stadium parking lot, and Harvey arranged with him where to pick them up. Then they got out of the car and he pulled away.<p>

Harvey started walking towards the turnstiles, again without a word to Mike. Mike looked around at the mass of people in the parking lot, many standing around their cars drinking beer or barbecuing. He remembered reading about this. It was called _tailgating_.

Harvey turned around and saw Mike's awed expression. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and shook his head. "Don't tell me this is your first baseball game."

Mike shrugged. "Guilty."

Harvey let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe he _should_ have just gone with Louis.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Apparently I fail at reading. Thank you anonymous for pointing out that Jeter isn't a pitcher. I'm not a Yankees fan clearly! (And I'm still a little bitter about the 2009 world series… go Phillies.) So, apologies for that mistake, pretend I said short stop. The rest of the baseball stuff should be pretty accurate though.

Thanks for the reviews and favorites!

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><p>Mike followed Harvey to their seats. They were about thirty yards past third base, two sections away from the away team's dugout. Harvey let Mike go in first and then took the seat on the aisle. Mike could barely contain his wonderment. These seats cost upwards of two-hundred bucks—another thing he'd learned on the MLB website—and although he knew that the firm had probably covered it, he was still amazed.<p>

The field was, like, _right there_. Now he wished he did have a glove, or at least something he could hold up in front of his face when foul balls came flying at him. Harvey had a glove. Maybe he would protect him. Mike scoffed mentally. Harvey protecting. Yeah right.

After a few minutes of silence, Harvey cleared his throat. "Do you want food?" he asked.

"What? Yeah, sure, food is good," Mike managed.

Harvey rolled his eyes and stood up. "Coming?" he said when Mike didn't move. Mike hastily stood up and followed him up the stairs. They passed a sub stand and a soft pretzel cart, and then a somewhat fancy sit-down restaurant. Mike half expected Harvey to stop there, but was amazed when he continued on and got in line in front of a dingy looking pizza shop. Harvey Specter was chock full of surprises.

Harvey turned to Mike. "Best pizza in the city," he explained. "Get whatever you want. It's on me."

Again, _surprises_.

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><p>When they returned to their seats, the ballpark had started to fill up. The game was starting in twenty minutes and the pregame announcements had started. Mike took a bite of his pizza—which he had to admit was <em>fantastic<em>—and sat back to watch the jumbo-tron.

Harvey glanced over at him. "So you've never been to a ballgame. Please tell me you've at least watched the Yanks on TV?"

Mike nodded through a mouthful of pizza. "Of course," he said when he'd swallowed. "Who hasn't?" he laughed nervously. Harvey looked skeptical.

"I brought a girl here once," he mused, "She told me she couldn't wait for the guy with the stick to hit a goal and score a touchdown." He frowned at Mike. "Please don't be like that. I'd have to fire you."

Mike cleared his throat nervously, but then Harvey laughed, and for once it didn't feel like it was directed _at_ him.

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><p>Harvey was pleasantly surprised by Mike's baseball knowledge. Sure he knew that the kid had probably just memorized it all from the internet, but the fact that he took the time to do that… Harvey was reluctantly impressed. Mike knew every trade the Yankees had made the past three seasons, and the salaries of every player, including the kids they'd just brought up from the farm team.<p>

He slowly became aware that he'd spent almost two hours with Mike without talking about work. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad after all. Not that Harvey had ever thought he was _bad—_he wouldn't have hired him if he couldn't stand him—but he was slowly realizing that Mike was someone he wouldn't mind being, well, not friends, but at least acquainted with outside of the office.

If, you know, he got some better clothes.

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><p>Mike on the other hand was still a bit of a nervous wreck. He felt like everything he said and did was constantly being judged, and that he had to work every minute to impress Harvey, although he had to admit that his boss was far less intimidating when he wasn't in a suit. And it was a little hard to take someone seriously when they were eating super stringy extra cheese pizza.<p>

There were so many things he wished he could tell Harvey. He wanted him to know how much he idolized him and wanted to be like him, and how much it meant to him when Harvey, on those rare occasions, told him he was doing a good job. He wanted to tell Harvey that he didn't mind his hard ass approach to mentoring, because it made him want to work harder.

Because he _knew_ that despite the bullshit act Harvey put on, he really did care. He wouldn't go out of his way to make sure Mike stayed on the straight and narrow and didn't get pulled back down by Trevor if he didn't care. And Mike wanted to let Harvey know how much he appreciated that.

But even though they were, dare he say it, _bonding_, he didn't think they'd reached that point yet. The spilling your guts point.

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><p>They'd fallen into a comfortable silence, both focusing on the game. Harvey had bought beers from one of the vendors who walked up and down the aisle, and they both sipped them absent mindedly.<p>

Then Mike turned to Harvey and blurted, "Thank you."

"For what?"

Mike shrugged. "For all of this. It's... nice."

Harvey smirked, "Well then I'll just have to give you a shit ton of extra work tomorrow. Can't have you thinking I'm going soft or anything."

Mike rolled his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Again, thanks so much for the reviews. I really love comments, either good ones or helpful concrit. Thanks so much!

Here's where the story gets a little AU, but I'm just filling in stuff they haven't talked about yet on the show. I'm trying to keep it as in character as possible.

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><p>It was the bottom of the fourth and Mike was actually starting to get into the game. There were two outs and the Yankees had a man on first and third. A-Rod was up to bat. He swung at an obvious ball and missed. Next to Mike Harvey groaned. Mike grinned a little. Harvey seemed so relaxed here, like he didn't have to put on a show for anyone and could just be himself. Mike could get used to this side of Harvey, but he had a feeling that tomorrow at work they'd be right back to normal.<p>

The next two pitches were balls, so Rodriguez was 1 and 2. Then he swung at a curveball, and made contact. Mike followed the ball up with his eyes and then realized to his horror that it was coming right towards them. He didn't even have time to brace himself for impact, then suddenly Harvey was standing up next to him, glove out, and snagged the ball right out of the air over his head.

Mike let out the breath he'd been holding and stared up at Harvey. "Holy crap," he breathed. "That was—you are—Jesus Harvey that was awesome."

Harvey smirked. "I know." He sat back down, tossing the ball he'd caught back and forth in his hands.

"That was incredible!" Mike gushed again. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Harvey looked away. Then he sighed. "I played some ball in high school."

Mike scoffed. "Yeah, so did Trevor, but he never could've done _that_."

"Okay, I was a varsity left fielder. Won the state championship every year," Harvey admitted.

"Did you play in college?" Mike asked.

Harvey's eyes darkened almost imperceptively. "No."

"Oh." Mike backed off, clearly having said something he shouldn't. "Sorry I didn't mean too—"

"No it's okay," Harvey sighed again. "I had a full scholarship to play for Cornell. I was going to be the only freshman starter. But I… I fucked it up."

Mike frowned. He'd somehow formed the opinion that Harvey had always been perfect, and everything in life was handed to him on a silver platter. Sure he knew about Jessica making him her project and mentoring him, but he thought that just had to do with Harvey's ego and distaste for rules.

He wondered if Harvey was going to elaborate, or if this was the end of their conversation. He wanted to know more, but he would understand if Harvey didn't want to talk about it.

Then Harvey surprised him again and continued. "I had officially signed on with Cornell in the summer before my senior year, so school was pretty much a joke from then on. They told me I had to keep up a B average or they'd rescind the offer," Harvey chuckled a little, "I could get B's without even opening a textbook."

Mike chanced a look up at Harvey and saw that the older man was staring into the space in front of him, clearly lost in his memories. Mike looked back at the ground as Harvey went on.

"So I slacked off. I started skipping school. Met some guys who'd graduated a few years ahead of me. We went to the batting cages, played pool, smoked a little, drank a little, you know, 'cool guy' stuff," Harvey snorted. "One of the guys was kind of the leader of the whole group. His name was Eli, and I _worshipped_ him. He was smooth and cocky and everyone respected him. And I did everything I possibly could to get respect back from him. There was a time when I would have done anything for him." Harvey shook his head. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I doubt you want to hear me rant about the past."

Mike turned to Harvey with what he hoped was a reassuring look. "I don't mind." Then he grinned, "Hey, I think we're bonding."

Harvey gave a small rueful smile. "You really want to hear the rest of the story?"

Mike nodded.

"Alright. So one day Eli told me there was something he needed me to do. Of course I agreed without even bothering to find out what it was. Well, he wanted me to steal a car. And not just any car, a 1970 Impala that belonged to a well known gang leader."

Mike gasped. "Did you do it?" he asked, horrified.

Harvey nodded. "And it would have been fine too, except that the cops had been informed that there were drugs in the car and were already tailing it, so when I hotwired it and drove off, they were right on my tail."

"So you got caught."

"Yeah. And it turns out there were drugs. They found about three kilos of cocaine in the trunk. At first they tried to pin me for that, but eventually they realized I was just a dumb kid in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"So you weren't arrested? Why did Cornell take back your scholarship?" Mike was now watching Harvey with a mix of fear and empathy. He'd had enough run-ins with the law to know what Harvey must have been going through.

"Eli got pissed that I messed up, and he threatened to take it out on my little brother," Harvey's eyes darkened. "No one touches my little brother."

Mike put the pieces together. "So you got to him first."

Harvey nodded. "He was in the hospital for weeks. Needless to say, Cornell didn't look so kindly on that." He paused for a second. "I don't know what people told you, but I didn't go to Cornell for undergrad, much less _Harvard_. I ended up at SUNY Binghamton and I was lucky to be even there. If it weren't for Jessica, I wouldn't be here."

Mike looked down. "Just like if it weren't for you, _I_ wouldn't be here," he said quietly.

Harvey nodded.

Then Mike looked up and their eyes met. Something had changed between them. They both knew things about each other that no one else did. They weren't suddenly friends, not in the typical sense anyway, but they shared a bond that not many people could. Mike trusted Harvey fully because he knew that Harvey trusted him. And that trust was something he never wanted to lose. He would never let Harvey down.

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><p>AN: I think there will be one more chapter. Stay tuned lovelies!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Short finale. This is my first non-slash fanfic in like, ages. I'm happy with how it turned out, but I think I'm going to go back to romancey stuff from now on. It's just more my thing.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Hope you enjoy this ending!

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><p>The Yankees were winning, but Mike had pretty much stopped focusing on the game. His mind was racing. On one hand, he knew that even though everything had changed, Harvey would still have to keep up appearances, and maintain the reputation he'd so carefully built. On the other, he wasn't even sure what this change meant. He wanted to be able to talk to Harvey about, well, life. And he wanted to be able to come to Harvey for advice, and not be laughed at. He secretly wanted Harvey to be his friend, but he knew that was wishful thinking.<p>

When Harvey excused himself to go to the rest rooms, Mike felt a brief pang of disappointment at the separation. It was then that he realized just how much he was dependent on Harvey. And the thought scared him a little.

Mike knew he had a bad habit of latching on to people. He knew he needed to be independent, to grow up and be able to fix his problems on his own, but it just felt too good having someone to watch out for you and take care of you. That's what Trevor had done, at least at first.

And that's what Mike wanted from Harvey. He wanted someone he could lean on, who would make things better when he inevitably fucked them up.

He cursed mentally, knowing he was expecting way too much from this. Harvey had opened up to him one time and suddenly Mike was gushing like a teenage girl. Just because there was a new element of trust between them didn't mean that they were suddenly BFFs.

Mike didn't even notice that Harvey had returned until he felt a nudge against his elbow. Mike looked up and saw that Harvey was holding out a plastic Yankees hat filled with vanilla ice cream to him. He accepted it with a small grin and was met with a smirk from Harvey. But it wasn't a derogatory look, more of a you're-too-cute smirk.

And although Mike vaguely resented the condescension, he still felt warm and fuzzy inside. He felt himself blushing and hastily looked away.

Harvey dug into his own chocolate sundae as if he hadn't noticed, and for that Mike was grateful.

Then Mike sighed. He just couldn't hold it in any longer. He looked over at Harvey and said quietly, "You _do_ care."

Harvey didn't look up from his ice cream. "Of course I do," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He took a bite. "But you better not let that affect your work quality in any way."

Now Mike was absolutely beaming. He couldn't help it. "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied.

Harvey smiled. "Good boy," he murmured, almost under his breath.

And Mike finally relaxed. Sure he and Harvey would never have the same relationship he'd had with Trevor, but this was something much, much better.

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><p>END.<p> 


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